


First Christmas, First Cold

by Jem (allonsymous)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas, Colds, Comfort, F/M, First Christmas, Fluff, Snow Storm, Stranded, TenToo - Freeform, first cold, sick, tentoo x rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:23:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9158026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsymous/pseuds/Jem
Summary: Rose Tyler wants Tentoo’s first Christmas as a part-Human to be perfect, but everything seems to be going wrong.  For Timepetal's "stranded" prompt.





	

Rose clenched her teeth in frustration as she turned the key over for the fifth time. “Come on… come on…” she coaxed, as the engine of her yellow Ford Fiesta sputtered and wheezed without effect. She threw herself back against the seat and groaned. “It’s dead.”

The Doctor reached into the pocket of his winter coat and grinned. “Well, it can’t be dead dead. Let’s see what the ol’ sonic can do for us.” He pulled the tool out and flipped it.

“I hope it can do something. The snow’s really coming down,” she said, as he popped his door open and stepped out into the snow with a crunch of his trainers.

Rose tried not to sound stressed, but it was just one more thing on top of a week that felt like the universe was working against her. First there was the explosion at the Torchwood lab that destroyed over a month’s worth of her research and evidence gathering. After that, her friend Martha had to cancel their Christmas shopping engagement because she’d come down with a terrible cold. When Rose tried to make Martha a pot of soup, she received an important work related phone call and completely lost track of what she was doing. The soup boiled over, and what was left in the pot burned. It took forty-five minutes to clean up, and then she had to go to the shop for more ingredients, which forced her to dip into her Christmas budget. The next day, while helping her mum decorate, she accidentally bumped into a stack of boxes and knocked down Pete’s heirloom stained glass Christmas angel, shattering it beyond repair. And when she woke up this morning, she felt the tell-tale scratchiness in the back of her throat, a sure sign that she was coming down with whatever Martha had.

Despite not feeling one hundred percent, she was determined not to let the Doctor down. She was taking a week off from work for the holidays, and she and the Doctor were finally putting together their own Christmas at the flat. She decided not to tell him she wasn’t feeling great, putting on a smile and scraping together something resembling some Christmas spirit as they headed off to the tree lot. It had started spitting snowflakes that morning, but they checked the forecast and saw it wasn’t supposed to really start coming down until later that night. Now they were on the way back, and the snowfall had grown so thick it was becoming hard to see the road. When her car started to sputter and choke, she pulled over to the shoulder just in time before the engine died, saving her and the Doctor from the frustration of trying to nudge it off the road in the snow. That was one good thing that had happened, she supposed.

The Doctor lifted the hood, obscuring him from her view. She reached for the cup holder and grabbed her travel cup of tea, sipping it and letting the warm drink trickle slowly down her burning throat. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat with a sigh, trying not to focus on the pain in her sinuses and the swimmy feeling in her head that was rapidly growing more insistent.

I wonder if I have a fever. Probably. Feels like.

She heard the hood slam shut and opened her eyes, watching the snow-dusted Doctor crunch his way back to the car door and slip inside, pulling the hat off his head and shaking snow onto the floor of the car.

“Well, what’s the verdict?” she asked.

“Sorry, Rose. It’s dead dead.” He half frowned, giving her apologetic puppy-dog eyes.

Rose groaned in disappointment. “No luck? Not even with the sonic?”

“Well, the sonic can do all sorts of things, but one thing it can’t do is fill your tank with petrol.”

She blinked in surprise. “What? I’m out of fuel?”

“Seems so. Everything looks good, but she’s dry as a bone. Or so says the sonic after I ran a diagnostic scan.”

“But the fuel gauge said I was still a quarter full!” She cried, much louder than she’d intended. The Doctor was taken aback, nudging away from her slightly and grimacing, at a loss for words.

She sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I just… god, this week! If it’s not one thing, it’s another. I feel like nothing’s gone right, and it’s our first Christmas since… Well, it’s our first Christmas together. Here. And now we’re stranded in a snow storm with no fuel, and my phone is dead, so I have to wait for it to charge up a bit before I can even call for help, which might not be good for the car battery, and then there’s the fees, and I’ve already had to dip into the Christmas budget, and I still haven’t even gone shopping yet!” With that, she burst into tears.

“Aww, Rose, don’t cry,” the Doctor soothed, reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek. His eyes widened in alarm. “Blimey, Rose, you’re a bit warm. Hot even—you feeling okay?” He pushed back her hat and laid the back of his hand against her forehead, and then down her cheek.

Rose swallowed down the last of her sobs. “I think I might be coming down with what Martha has.” She sounded utterly deflated.

The Doctor made a pouty face. “Rose, no… you can’t get sick.”

“I’m so sorry, Doctor,” she said, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “I really wanted Christmas to be perfect for you. Your first Christmas as a human.”

“No, that’s not what I mean! I mean I want you to feel better, that’s all. Besides, I thought the human Christmas experience was for most things to go wrong in one form or another.” He smiled sympathetically, still petting her cheek.

Rose couldn’t help but laugh. It was a wobbly laugh, still fraught with tears. “Yeah, I suppose so…”

The Doctor leaned a bit closer. “Here, Love, you should take your hat and scarf off. Don’t want to let your fever get too high.” He reached over as she bent her head, allowing him to unwind the scarf and slip the hat free. He tossed them in the back seat and leaned against the center console, patting his arm invitingly. She slumped over to rest her head on his arm, snuggling into it like a pillow as he brushed back her hair with his fingers. “I’ll keep an eye on the phone and call as soon as there’s enough life in it. You just go to sleep. You need your rest.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t kiss me, you might catch my germs.” Her voice was groggy and hoarse.

“Nonsense. I never get sick. My immune system is stronger than Hercules on steroids.”

“As a Time Lord maybe. You’re human now, remember?”

The Doctor frowned. “Well… only part human.”

\----

“Rooooose…” the Doctor groaned from the couch. “Roooooose Tylaaaaah…”

Rose poked her head out of the kitchen. “What is it, Doctor?”

He was still in his pajamas, huddled under a blanket, looking pale and clammy and miserable. She felt a pang of sympathy, but was embarrassed to find she was having difficulty concealing a smile of amusement.

“I feel funny,” he whinged.

“Yes, that’s the cold, Love.”

“Yeah, but I feel really funny when I sit up.” By way of demonstration, he sat up, then immediately groaned and laid back down. “See?”

“Doctor, I can’t see how you feel, but yes, I understand. It’s just the congestion. It messes up your equilibrium. But look at me. I still got a cough, but the fever’s gone, and I’m not nearly as tired. Trust me, you’ll be your old self in a few days.”

“I’d much rather be my old self now.”

“Yes, everyone says that when they’ve got a cold. Now, I’m almost done fixing our tea. Should we open presents after?”

“Yes. I like presents.”

She hastily stepped back into the kitchen to hide the fit of giggles that were threatening to escape. God, men are the worst at being sick. Even former Time Lord men.

She assembled their tea on a tray and added some warm cinnamon rolls. Chances were the Doctor wouldn’t feel much like eating, but it was nice to offer them all the same. Gathering up the tray in her arms, she made her way into the living room and set the tray on the coffee table. “Here we are, Doctor. Tea’s just the thing when you’re sick. It’ll make your throat feel loads better.”

She added honey and lemon to his cup and gave it a stir. Careful not to spill, she lifted it and turned to find the Doctor had fallen asleep.


End file.
